Snowdrops
by welshrose
Summary: Hear this song and remember… What happens after the Parisian boat ride on the Seine.
1. Chapitre 1

Snowdrops

Hear this song and remember…

What happens after the Parisian boat ride on the Seine.

Disclaimer: Anastasia (Anya), Dimitri and other characters belong to 20th Century Fox and Don Bluth. I try to do things as accurately as possible and do a lot of research before writing my fics in order to make things a bit more accurate (Avallon is a real town, etc), so I hope you enjoy.

France, 24 December 1926

Sometimes she wishes she could remember. Anya was lying on her side in the small bed wrapped in white cotton sheets, staring out the window of the bedroom she shared with Dimitri and watching snowflakes gather on the windowsill outside, wishing they were her lost memories of childhood. She thought of the incredible adventure she had been on in the past six months. She came to France to find her family and discovered she was actually Grand Duchess Anastasia Romanova, the last daughter of Tsar Nicholas II and Tsarina Empress Alexandra, and sole heiress to the vast Romanov fortune. She had also found love with Dimitri, the conman who tried to pass her off as royalty only to realise she was the true princess. The couple had eloped on a boat sailing down the Seine, leaving behind Anya's grandmother, the Dowager Empress Marie, her lady-in-waiting, Sophie, and Sophie's sweetheart (and Dimitri's partner in crime), the former courtier Vlad. Once the boat ride ended, the pair considered what to do next: they could go abroad or stay on the continent. Perhaps they could travel to New York City, along with hundreds of other Russian immigrants, but had heard of the hardships experienced there by most. They decided they would be safest in France and caught the next train to the one of the furthest destination according to Anya's Paris guidebook, the historic region of Burgundy.

The couple settled in quaint Avallon, a thoroughly French and quiet little market town known for gingerbread, wine, and cobbled streets. However, they were still Russians through and through but enjoyed living in their adopted country, choosing to stay a less than a hundred kilometres away from the Dowager Empress and learning the language as much as they could (Anya could remember some from her childhood, which vexed her as she couldn't seem to remember much else from that time) and even bought a house on the rue Bocquillot, near the main street. That summer, the couple travelled 90 kilometres south to the town of Toulon on the Riviera and were secretly married at the Russian Orthodox Church of the Resurrection, with the Dowager Empress Marie's blessing, of course. He was 20; she was just 18. On Sunday, 20 June 1926, Her Imperial Highness Grand Duchess Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanova became simply Mrs Anastasia Smirnova, wife of Dimitri Smirnov.

Upon their return to Avallon, Anya and Dimitri were not surprised to find they were still the only Russians in town. The couple sent regular letters to their family--Marie, Vlad and Sophie--in Paris. However, no one questioned the couple and although rumours continued to swirl through autumn that Anya was in fact Anastasia, most of the time the couple were met with warm smiles and friendship from the townspeople. Dimitri found work at a local vineyard, where he was happy to sometimes enjoy the fruits of his successes for free, while Anya mostly stayed at home, but not of her own accord. For her apparent safety, Marie supplied Anya with monthly cheques of 250 Francs per month, for "necessities" such as food and paying bills, in the old woman's words. The money meant Anya didn't mean Despite the couple's protests, the money kept coming, and decided to put it to good use by paying for the "necessities" of life, per the elderly lady's wishes.

Now here Anya was, one year older and wiser but still without her memories. Some days she would see a little girl bundled up in a wool coat outside and be reminded of one of her siblings or hear the tinkling of bells over a shop door and be reminded of sleigh bells, the images pulling at the very edges of her memory. She once nearly burst into tears after smelling fresh violets, which she remembered had been her favourite perfume long ago. The experience had been almost painful for her.

Anya moved out from underneath the covers and settled at the settee in front of window, gazing out onto the cobbled streets below. Dimitri had left for work hours ago and Anya relished the solitude. She saw a young mother carrying a newborn and smiled to herself, absentmindedly fingering her wedding ring. A few weeks ago she had broken the happy news to Dimitri that she was pregnant and they would be parents come July. The couple sent word to Marie and Vlad and Sophie in Paris, who were overjoyed becoming a great-grandmother and "grandparents", in Vlad and Sophie's case. Her morning sickness was nearly through as she was entering her second trimester and was finally able to relax a bit.

And now the day of Christmas Eve--at least in the Gregorian calendar--had dawned and a light dusting of snow was falling outside. The snow was certainly not as heavy as found back in St Petersburg, but the sight was comforting to her nonetheless. She and Dimitri had considered going back to Russia but Dimitri's decision to "leave and never come back" stood firm. In the end, they decided that they enjoyed their new life together, no matter where they were. Anya stretched and slipped off her nightdress and looked down at her belly. Before long she wouldn't be able to see her toes! With that thought, she filled the bathtub with lukewarm water (the warmest it could get) and washed, then dressed in a warm woollen dress the colour of cranberries and silk stockings which seemed out of place with her raggedy old boots, which she wore both out of pure nostalgia and practicality, as her feet had begun to swell.

She trudged downstairs and contemplated the kitchen. She dragged her fingers along the rustic baking table and, being hungry, decided to bake. But first, breakfast. Anya slipped on her chocolate brown wool coat and fastened the matching wool gloves and fashionable cloche on her head--an early Christmas gift from Sophie from the House of Chanel, no less--and waltzed out the door.


	2. Chapitre 2

France, 24 December 1926

Chapitre 2

Anya trudged through the snow in her boots and wished she had Pooka here. The little dog proved to be very fond of Vlad and Sophie and thus stayed behind with them after throwing such a fuss before the couple departed the train for Burgundy. She hummed a song to herself happily and entered the local bakery, where she bought and ate a few chocolate croissants and drank a cup of tea.

Once she had finished, she walked along the main street home, admiring the shop windows. She remembered all the baking she wanted to do that day and hurried home, throwing on a dress she usually wore for housework and an apron and set to work.

Meanwhile, close to four o'clock, Dimitri was happy to be able to go home. As it was Christmas Eve, the vineyard workers had been able to get off early. He bid good evening and happy holidays to his fellow workers, who had accepted him as one of their own, and began to meander down the streets home. He paused in front of a bookshop and decided on a whim to browse inside. He looked through a shelf of foreign titles: there were some in English, in Italian, in German--and some in Russian. He flipped through the pages and recognised some of the words--he had never exactly learned how to read and Anya could, strangely enough, still remember how to do so quite well from her childhood--but knew enough to know they were children's stories. A slip of writing at the back of the book caught his eye and he grinned. Surely, 15 Francs for the lot of three was more than enough for their sentimental value.

Anya was covered in flour and couldn't help but recall her wedding day. They were at their hotel room in Toulon getting ready to walk down to church. She was prepared to wear a simple white silk satin dress that cost her 50 Francs at a Paris market when Dimitri surprised her with a small, elegantly wrapped box with the gold Fabergé seal gleaming underneath. "It's from your grandmother," he said quietly. There was a note tucked underneath the white satin ribbon. Anya silently read the note to herself: "To my Anastasia, with love. Always, Grandmama." She opened the box and gasped when she saw what was nestled beneath the silk wrapping. She pulled out two solid gold rings, thin bands entwined with white silk ribbon. Anya delicately pulled them apart and stared at them in her open palm. One was clearly sized for her finger and the other for Dimitri. "Well, I guess that solves the ring problem then," he quipped. There was a second box, a twin of the other but with the Romanov seal. Dimitri opened the box and the pair looked down on matching wedding crowns, gleaming silver, worn in a traditional Orthodox ceremony. "That solves the crown problem," she said slyly. The couple each grabbed a box and made their way down to the church.

Dimitri entered the front door. "What smells so--have you been cooking?" he asked, dumbfounded. Anya shot him a look and arched an eyebrow. "Baking. I've been baking, Dimitri," she said. "And if you're nice to me, I might even share some with you," she said coyly. Dimitri sauntered over to his wife and deftly licked the chocolate off the spoon Anya had been using to mix the batter. An array of sweet buns, chocolate ganache, and all kinds of delicious treats were laid out on the table and the duo spent the rest of the afternoon and evening eating, laughing and reminiscing. Close to midnight, the couple made their way upstairs, readied for bed and fell into a blissful sleep.


	3. Chapitre 3

Chapitre III

A/N: Yes, I'm aware that Christmas occurs on 7 January in the Orthodox calendar and that ordinarily, Dimitri and Anya wouldn't celebrate on 25 December...but new life, new rules. I'm thinking I'll continue this in a seperate fic... Thanks to all who have reviewed (and for your patience)! --Welshrose

Christmas Day, 1926.

Dimitri rolled over in bed during what must have been very early the next morning, as the sun wasn't even shining yet. He was relived to see Anya fast sleep, still on her side in the position in which they had lain together the previous night. As much as Dimitri wanted to curl up next to his wife and fall back to sleep, he had some work to do still. Without even bothering to change out of his pyjamas, he crept as silently as he could downstairs to the kitchen and removed a small parcel wrapped in brown paper from under a pile of cleaning rags in a table drawer. He turned to the reception room where the Christmas tree stood. It was a sad looking little tree and was sparsely decorated with bits of silver tinsel and only five ornaments, the most the couple could afford. He considered placing the parcel under the tree as the space underneath reserved for presents was empty, but decided to instead store it in his nightstand's drawer, crept back upstairs into bed and embraced his wife. She sighed contentedly in her sleep and Dimitri fell back into dream land.

_He was nine years old. Snow was falling outside the Winter Palace, landing in large clumps on the windowsills. Dimitri peered around a corner of the palace wall. He had sneaked up from the kitchens, making his way through the labyrinth of corridors, until he found her. He had heard her laughter, much like the tinkling of bells, outside the door and could see shadows of swirling skirts underneath the door. He peered in through a slit between the door and the doorframe and could see her ginger ringlets gleaming in the lamplight. The seven year-old looked angelic in a white lawn frock identical to those of her sisters, a toothy grin spread across her face and her blue eyes piercing, as though staring right at him. Suddenly, smoke began to trail above the beautiful little princess like a sort of strange halo and in an instant, she burst into a spark of orange and red flame, slowly fading into ash and cinder, gone forever. _

Dimitri sprung into consciousness with a start, his heart pounding furiously and breathing heavily. Anya groggily stirred and sat up; a look of concern crossed her face upon seeing the emotional state her lover was in. "What's wrong?" she asked, her blue eyes flicking left and right, searching for an answer in his stricken expression. "Nothing," he breathed, trying hard to calm down. He flopped back down on the pillows and Anya laid her head on his chest, her ear pressed against his heart. Her arm across his chest, she gently rubbed her thumb against his shoulder in what was meant to be a comforting gesture. "I just thought I'd lost you," said Dimitri after a brief pause. Anya had assumed he had been dreaming anyway. Sometimes she still had nightmares about her past, mainly snippets of events she could only assume were of time she spent with her family. She was once convinced she was sitting on her father's lap and heard her father's voice calling her "Malenkaya"--she even swore she felt the scratch of his facial hair on her cheek upon awakening. The two of them lay there silently for a few minutes, their steady breathing the only sound in the room.

Suddenly, Dimitri leaned over, opened the nightstand drawer and pulled out the parcel. Anya looked curiously at the parcel for a moment and then her eyes grew wide. Then, she leaned over her side of the bed and retrieved an identical brown paper parcel from her nightstand drawer. Smiling impishly at each other, the couple exchanged gifts. Both hesitated for a moment, then each began carefully unwrapping his and her respective present. Dimitri was first to finish and grinned at the book he held in his hands, a Russian-French dictionary--for children. He flipped the book open and slowly read the inscription scrawled on the frontispiece: "X-mas 1926…because, you know, men are such babies. Love, Anya". She had seen the book among a pile of used ones going for a cheap rate a few months ago and decided to pick it up for him, hoping the book's relative simplicity would be enough incentive for him to begin learning to read. She realised the hard way he didn't know how to read very well when he could barely find where to sign his own name on their wedding licence but he was too stubborn to admit the fact. Anya caught him feigning reading the newspaper one morning and gently needled him into admitting his illiteracy, albeit grudgingly from him. She made several attempts at trying to teach him--even bribing him with sex at one particularly frustrating moment. "Sex first, lesson later," he argued and, of course, she gave in. Naturally, no reading lesson had taken place that day. "I figured you could use it," she said. "Where's the French word for 'sex'?" he asked gleefully, flipping through the pages. "How about 'thank you'? And anyway, that's a children's book," she countered, and he leaned over to kiss her. "Merci," he whispered softly. "Your turn," he told her, and she slowly unwrapped the parcel.

She stared at the three worn volumes in her hands, a rush of memories coming back to her. She _knew_ these books. One was about a King Charles spaniel, much like her brother Alexei once had, the other about a rabbit who escapes from his pen to have an adventure in the countryside, and the last one, a folk tale called, "Little Snow Girl". The cover was decorated with a relief of snowdrops, the dainty white flowers looked so real she could have picked them up. She looked through the book, gingerly flipping through the yellowed pages, and just before snapping the book shut, something caught her eye. She recognised the handwriting--her father's neat Cyrillic prose: "Happy Christmas, Malenkaya. 1915." Their last Christmas together as a family. Anya quietly closed the book. Dimitri had been watching his wife's reaction the entire time and anxiously waited for her to say something. Anya simply leaned over and kissed Dimitri, trying to convey her thanks in that moment, for she knew that words could never express her gratitude. She pulled away slowly and met his gaze. He grinned at her. "Would you like some breakfast?" She returned his smirk. "You cook?" she asked, with a raised eyebrow. "Only for you, babe."


End file.
